5 Works in Patatas the Cat (Taskmaster)
Listing Works
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Summary
For the bingo prompt: fairy tale.
This is a straight up parody of Millions of Cats by Wanda Gág.
Series
- Part 157 of TM
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The Jester and the King by LadyJekyll for rottenapplemil
Fandoms: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
13 Jan 2025
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Series
- Part 37 of TM
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Summary
According to "The Story of... Patatas", the Taskmaster's stuffed toy cat, Patatas, is down to his last of his nine lives. It's said he spends much of his time searching for a magical elixir that might restore some of his lives.
Which is ridiculous. Patatas is a stuffed toy. A prop from the Taskmaster UK show, useful for the comedian contestants to use, abuse, and abandon as is convenient. No-one would really go on a quest for a magical elixir for him. That'd be silly.
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Summary
Rhod comes to visit, bringing a furry friend, and all hell breaks loose in the library where Patatas the cat had been minding his own business. Once the dog is corralled, and Rhod shoo-ed away, both Alex and Greg react to losing the cat in their own similar, and different, ways.
Greg takes two deep breaths, the frown line biting deep between his brows, and then – away from prying eyes, crumples. He pulls his glasses off, and hanging them from his fingers, holds his face in his hands. Moments pass – observed by no-one but a pair of mildly curious blue-limned amber eyes peeking through plastic flowers.
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Summary
In a little village on the coast, Alex Horne the locksmith has stayed late as the snow piles up outside. He's about to head home to his warm, comfortable, bed when the phone rings - who would need a locksmith at this hour, in this weather?
“Sorry!” Greg calls over the storm. “Are you the locksmith?”
The man holds up a bag, as if that were proof enough – but it’s dusted white and doesn’t tell Greg anything – as if he’d been in the snow for a while.
In fact… Greg looks around. The snow is tearing at his face and he scrunches his eyes to see in the ghostly white light of a snow-filled night – but the single track road to the cottage on the cliff has only his car on it. Instead, a rapidly filling track carved through it – knee deep – winds down towards the village over a mile away.
“Did you… walk here?” He stares at the man – not as short as he’d seemed bent over to look in the window – with astonishment.